


the first game

by tiny_trashcan



Series: pact [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU where they're happy and emotionally functional, Alternate Universe - Professors, Anal Fingering, Collars, Dom Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts professors au, Knitting, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Gellert Grindelwald, not that you can really tell, yes that says knitting and I am aware knitting is not a kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 16:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_trashcan/pseuds/tiny_trashcan
Summary: I'm dissatisfied with a lot of the smut for this pairing so I wrote a short thing. AU where Gellert and Albus are Hogwarts professors, but they're still ambitious, competitive fellows, so affection doesn't stay vanilla for them.





	the first game

“Oh dear.”  
Albus pauses in his knitting. His current project, a blindingly yellow bumblebee quilt, is spread out on his lap. Stacks of completed Transfiguration grading sit on the desk behind him, and he's exchanged his wingtip shoes for a pair of comfortable slippers. A fire crackles cheerfully across the room and a basket of yarn hovers obediently at his elbow. “I think I dropped a stitch,” he comments, looking down at the current incomplete patch on his quilt; “I’ll have to redo this row.”

Typically, this is the point where Gellert would suggest Albus fix it with magic, and where Albus would mildly refuse on the grounds that hand-making an object is part of the fun. But the rules of the game this evening are no speaking unless spoken to by name. Albus looks over his spectacles and considers Gellert.

Gellert is kneeling on the rug before the hearth, back arched, knees spread, entirely naked except for a dark leather collar. He leans heavily on the sofa, his face buried in his folded arms. His curly blonde hair is in complete disarray. Gellert is not as young and slim as he once was, but he remains one of Albus’s favorite things to look at. Albus’s chair is placed at a strategic angle so he can see Gellert’s face, should Gellert choose to turn his head. He can also see one of his enchanted leather gloves pressing two fingers in and out of Gellert’s entrance. 

The glove presses in, pulls out, a slow but relentless rhythm. Oil makes a soft slick sound between the leather and Gellert’s skin. He’s trembling slightly, not from cold, because charms keep their rooms pleasantly warm despite snow on the windowsills. Albus crooks a finger. His glove further slows in its movements, twists at a different angle, palm up, no longer withdrawing fully. Though not visible, he knows the glove will have begun pressing tiny gentle circles inside. 

Albus watches a moment and crooks his finger again. Ah, there it is: again, the glove’s movements are scarcely visible, but the slight change in angle sends a shudder through Gellert’s frame. That’s better. Albus begins unweaving his knitting back to the dropped stitch. 

Gellert makes a small sound in the back of his throat. The tip of one knitting needle gets snagged somewhere it shouldn’t be. Albus hums and sticks both knitting needles into the yarn basket to use both hands on the unweaving. “There now,” he murmurs. Gellert makes another low sound. Albus inspects him again. He’s rocking shallowly in time with the glove, in and out, in and out. He turns his face towards Albus, mouth open, eyes still closed. His fair complexion always did show a flush quite brilliantly. He’s breathing slow and deep and shaky, trying not to lose control.

“Gellert.”  
Rather than replying, Gellert sighs, and Albus smiles, enjoying the slow heat he feels in response. Gellert’s back bows. He takes a long time to open his eyes and focus.

“Albus?” he says, his voice hazy with pleasure.  
“Still with me?”  
“Yes.”  
“And how are you?”  
“Close,” Gellert replies after a pause. The glove’s hidden movements have neither stopped nor become firmer, still only teasingly light.

“Do you want to finish?” Albus asks. Gellert shakes his head. A spell prevents him finishing without Albus’s permission. Gellert could undo the spell himself, of course, but he’s far too stubborn to do so. Gellert’s hips jolt forward, unable to escape the relentless gentle touch from the glove. 

Albus pushes the unfinished quilt off his lap and crosses the room to sit on the sofa by Gellert’s folded arms. He strokes Gellert’s rumpled hair and Gellert purrs, listing towards him like a flower towards the sun. 

“You have done so well, my love,” Albus tells him. Gellert closes his eyes again, his usually feline smile as sharp as ever despite his shivering.

“What would you like to tell me?” Albus says affectionately.  
“Keep going,” Gellert says faintly. Albus strokes his neck and holds out his other hand to the glove. After so much gentle teasing, a firmer, faster pace causes Gellert to jolt so forcefully his head comes up off his folded arms. He makes a bitten-off sound and presses his face against Albus’s arm. His hips jerk once, twice. His whole body goes rigid, and he shakes through a climax kept incomplete by Albus’s spell. He quakes. 

“Very good,” Albus says warmly, still stroking Gellert’s neck, fitting his thumb just below the edge of the leather collar. Gellert practically whines.

When his shaking has subsided somewhat, Albus asks, “Enough?”  
“What do you take me for?” Gellert says, his voice strung tight but still managing indignation. 

“Very well. Three, then?” Albus says.  
Gellert presses his face harder against Albus’s arm. “Three,” he whispers.  
Albus strokes Gellert’s back and smiles. “Good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy I wrote a tiny thing in celebration of the Tumblr purge. I love grindeldore for a lot of more intellectual reasons, but this was fun. :P 
> 
> Pls come flail at me about fandom things on my new twitter, @TrashcanTiny (idk what I'm doing making handles, don't judge me).


End file.
